Love may build empires, but hatred razes them to ash. It festers in silence, sharpens in the dark, and when it awakens…
It does not weep.
It devours.
Tabitha Wysteria
‘So, we’re simply going along with this plan?’ Dawn demanded, her fingers curling into tight fists as Kai methodically secured his armour. She had been lounging peacefully in her chambers when the wyverian prince strolled in without so much as a knock, as though he owned the place.
The room itself was nothing short of exquisite—white drapes cascaded around the bed, soft and sheer, offering a semblance of privacy. Dawn had imagined, more than once, twice in fact, what it might feel like to draw them closed with Kai Blackburn lying beneath, naked and waiting. She cleared her throat, chasing the thought away with a silent curse at her ownmind.
She observed the rest of the room. To one side, a seating area opened out onto a patio lush with greenery, where a delicate fountain murmured beneath trailing vines. On the opposite side stood a towering wardrobe, its carved doors concealing what must have been dozens of gowns, each one more decadent than the last.
Kai glanced at her, a look she had come to know all too well; a vexing cocktail of annoyance, weary patience, and an almost mischievous amusement.
‘We can’t march into the Desert Kingdom to confront the king!’ she cried, flinging her arms wide in disbelief. ‘It’s just us against them. Why must you and I be the ones to get involved? This has nothing to do with us. Let’s go back to your army.’
‘What of the dragons?’ Kai countered, adjusting the twin hook swords across his back with practised precision. ‘We came here to gain their allegiance, to wield them against Hagan. If we turn away now, Alina will never lend us her aid.’
‘You put far too much faith in the notion that she’ll ever help us…’ Dawn muttered beneath her breath.
‘She will,’ Kai replied, his dark eyes sharpening like tempered steel. ‘But first, we must help her.’
Dawn rolled her eyes. ‘Fine. Then let’s make it quick.’
She lifted her hands, emerald threads of magic coiling like serpents around her fingers. In mere heartbeats, her clothing shimmered and shifted, replaced by the sleek, black combat attire of the wyverians—ruthless, functional, deadly. And when she lowered her hands, she caught him watching her, still and silent, something unspoken glimmering in those shadowed eyes of his.
‘Is there something on my face?’ she snapped, irritation edging her voice at the way his stare lingered.
He chuckled softly, shaking his head. ‘No. Nothing at all.’
‘Then stop looking at me like that.’
‘Why?’
‘Because you’re making me nervous.’ She turned her attention to the black leather straps on her arms, feigning interest in them, anything to avoid his eyes. But her body stiffened when he closed the space between them, stepping directly in front of her. His long, pale fingers brushed hers aside, taking over the task.
‘Like this,’ he said, tightening the straps with deft precision.
‘I can do it myself,’ she retorted, jerking away.
‘I never said you couldn’t.’
‘Stop being nice. It’s unsettling.’
‘Why?’ He tilted his head, studying her. ‘Would you rather I be unpleasant?’
‘Yes. I think I would.’
‘Liar.’ His lips curved into an amused smile.
‘And stop smiling,’ she snarled, spinning on her heel to face the mirror mounted on the wall. But her breath stuttered when he leaned in, his lips hovering perilously close to her ear.
‘I promise,’ he whispered, his voice low and velvet-smooth, ‘to be anything but nice from now on.’
‘Good.’ She swallowed hard, her gaze lifting to meet his in the mirror. Her heart thudded as he reached up, gently tucking stray strands of her white hair behind her ear. She froze, wondering, hoping, if he would dare to press his lips to the delicate curve of her neck. She wanted him to. Gods, she wanted to stop pretending, to push him back onto the bed and let her body speak what her lips refused to say.
‘I think you’ll regret only keeping my bad side,’ he teased, his laugh low, dangerous.
